"Thanks, gov'nor," the kid said, stowing them away. "You won't regret
it." Gordon started to turn. Then the kid's voice rose sharply to a
yell. "Okay, honey, he's the Joe!"

Out of the darkness, ten to a dozen figures loomed up. The kid had
jumped aside with a lithe leap, and now stood between Gordon and the
group moving in for the kill. Gordon swung to run, and found himself
surrounded. His eyes flickered around, trying to spot something in the
darkness that would give him shelter.

A bludgeon was suddenly hurtling toward him, and he ducked it, his blood
thick in his throat and his ears ringing with the same pressure of fear
he'd always known just before he was kayoed in the ring. Then he
selected what he hoped was the thinnest section of the attackers and
leaped forward. With luck, he might jump over them, using his Earth
strength.

There was a flicker of dawnlight in the sky, now, however; and he made
out others behind, ready for just such a move. He changed his lunge in
mid-stride, and brought his arm back with the knife. It met a small
round shield on the arm of the man he had chosen, and was deflected at
once.

"Give 'em hell, gov'nor," the kid's voice yelled, and the little figure
was beside him, a shower of blades seeming to leap from his hand in the
glare of his bare torch. Shields caught them frantically, and then the
kid was in with a heavy club he'd torn from someone's hand.

Gordon had no time to consider his sudden traitor-ally. He bent to the
ground, seizing the first rocks he could find, and threw them. One of
the hoods dropped his club in ducking; Gordon caught it up and swung in
a single motion that stretched the other out.

Then it was a melee. The kid's open torch, stuck on his helmet, gave
them light enough, until Gordon could switch on his own. Then the kid
dropped behind him, fighting back-to-back. Here, in close quarters, the
attackers were no longer using knives. One might be turned on its owner,
and a slit suit meant death by asphyxiation.

Gordon saw the blonde girl on the outskirts, her face taut and glowing.
He tried to reach her with a thrown club wrested from another man, but
she leaped nimbly aside, shouting commands.

Two burly goons were suddenly working together. Gordon swung at one,
ducked a blow from the other, and then saw the first swinging again. He
tried to bring his club up--but knew it was too late. A dull weight hit
the side of his head, and he felt himself fallin